this morning #1893.

this morning, in those wee early hours, she showed up at my door with a bouquet of flowers. unannounced, of course. unlike most of society, that’s just how she rolls. extended them toward me. asked if she could come in. fool i am, i let her. completely set aside everything she said last week. got her a cup of tea. just how she likes it. came back from the kitchen to find her flipping through my mail. “i never get good mail any more. looks like you don’t either.” handed her the tea & took a seat. “so why are you here, mom?” she tried to offer an apology. 60% sincere. i guess it was what i’d wanted to hear from her. for now, it’ll have to do. it settled that one issue but there’s still a lot of accumulated hurt left to sift through.